


Shop

by SpyVsTailor



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5773048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyVsTailor/pseuds/SpyVsTailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was soft spoken, never cursed, used impeccable manners and didn’t indulge in anything but tea, milk and cake. And to be honest, even Margaret felt perfectly safe around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shop

She ignored it professionally when Mr. Bennett teased her husband’s old business partner about ‘flirting’ with her. It didn’t make any matter to her. She knew the truth about their strange relationship and that was all that mattered.

Of course, their strange relationship got even stranger after they entered into their business agreement.

It wasn’t a bad sort of strange, she realized. Mr. Rothstein was oddly enough, a perfect gentleman. He was soft spoken, never cursed, used impeccable manners and didn’t indulge in anything but tea, milk and cake. He even gave them a personal tour of their new apartment, complete with a jovial romp with her two children, where Emily was squealing happy and Teddy, who was sullen, but grudgingly enjoying the idea of his own room.

The place even had an elevator ‘out of consideration for your daughter’, he had said with a sweet smile aimed at Emily, who was eyeing him with shining, adoring eyes. Her daughter had already put him into memory as someone to trust.

And to be honest, even Margaret felt perfectly safe around him.

So when Mr. Redstone made his appearance at the office about three weeks after she moved into her spacious apartment, she wasn’t as worried as that first day they crossed paths at her place of work.

He was dressed as always in an expensive three piece suit, silk bowtie and straw boater and lingered near the pillar just across her desk for a moment, checking his pocketwatch, before moving towards her with a grin.

“Ah, Miss…Rowan is it?” He greeted slyly.

“Rohan,” she corrected, playing his game. 

“Of course,” he returned. “You’ll have to forgive me, I hardly ever forget a name. But I always remember a face and one such as yours is like a photograph in my memory.”

She smiled politely. Recalling the first time she formally met him. It was New Year’s and Nucky introduced them like one trying to do their duty, but not one who wanted to have such a pleasure.

Mr. Rothstein was proper, polite and struck her as a bit of a upstage Joe. If someone had told her then that he owned New York, she would have laughed a little contemptuously. That Mr. Luciano, the one who slipped in and out of the shadows of the party could easily be have been mistaken as a man who owned New York, even the sharp-eyed Mr. Lansky who looked like nothing slipped past him, like he held all the secrets to the world and beyond could be mistaken for a King of New York, but this man, this Rothstein with his slick suits and his boaters who sipped tea delicately like a gentleman was hardly threatening to look at.

“Except I never sold you gloves, sir,” she returned sweetly.

“No, I remembered what it was, you worked in a shop down in Jersey, am I right?”

All play dropped from Margaret’s face. She wondered how he knew about that horrible shop and that horrible French woman she had worked for.

He seemed to sense her mild fright at the recollection of her past and smiled reassuringly. “No, that’s not it either. But you bear a strong resemblance to that young woman.”

Resting his hand on the back of her chair, he leaned his face in close to hers and whispered, “I wonder what ever happened to that woman?”

Wondering how he knew about her previous job, Margaret floundered for a response.

“She died,” she replied softly.

Mr. Rothstein was quiet. It seemed from their meetings that he often let silence speak for itself.

“Come on inside, Mr. Redstone!” Mr. Bennett shouted from his office doorway. “Stop chatting up the skirts.”

Removing the pretty pink carnation from his lapel, Mr. Rothstein offered it to her with a smile. “A pleasure as always, Miss Rohan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just some uploads of oneshots from my tumblr pile of fanfiction bones. I know. I'm such a slut for Marnie.


End file.
